Teen #1: Come on, let me rub it out!
Teen #2: No!
Teen #1: I'm telling you, it works. Let me rub on it!
Teen #2: Get away from me! Dad, tell John* to stay on his side of the train seat!
Teen #1: I'm just trying to rub the tension out of his muscle.
Dad: Okay, boys, stay in your own seats and keep your hands to yourselves. This week's episode of post-fraternity homoerotic nostalgia is over.
Three-year-old boy: One of my friends died.
Mom: Wait -- what?!
Three-year-old boy: Yeah, one of my best friends died in a car crash when your friend died in a car crash.
Three-year-old boy: Yes, we were flying in a plane and suddenly another plane came from behind and crashed into us. I ran away, but she got hurt. And died.
Mom: What? Huh?
Three-year-old boy: I'll tell you more later... These trains have ears.
Little grandson: Yo! He gonna go get some dicks!
grandma: Where you learn to talk like? [To other passengers] I'm sorry. He needs his medication.
Little grandson: Dicks! Bitch! Coca-Cola!
Loud chick, on coming out of the closet: I have a lot of gay guy friends, and they all went through the same thing. Well, almost the same -- 'I'm different,' then, 'I'm bisexual,' then, 'I only like Asian women,' then, finally, 'I'm gay!'
Asian classmate: So, we're the last pit stop before gay, now?
--Maimonides Hospital, Brooklyn
Middle-aged man: I like these hats they're selling. Oh, look at the one on her head! That looks warm.
Forlorn wife: That's her real hair. She has dreadlocks.
Middle-aged man: Oh, my! You can't take me anywhere.
Vendor: Want to try a sample?
Girl: Sure. What are they?
Vendor: Vegan pineapple-upside-down cake.
Girl, taking two: I love vegans!
Vendor: No, wait -- there aren't any vegans in the cake...
Girl cooing at boyfriend: You know, I just wanted a mature guy -- they're so rare! And you're very mature in your outlook.
Boyfriend: I am mature. I'm glad you see th-- Oh, look -- Playboy Enterprises!